


stolen.

by foundCarcosa



Category: Fable (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short peek into what took Spire-imprisoned Garth so long to regain his strength.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stolen.

He stands without fail, about three paces behind the shimmering gateway to the cell, his eyes unblinking as he regards the collared men that pass. They stop, stare, jeer when he makes them uncomfortable. He does not speak.

Soon after he'd ceased marking the passage of time, a trio of guards muscles him out of the cell, hauling him down, down into the heart of the Spire. The thrumming sound that makes his Will lines jittery and impedes his thoughts is louder here, much louder.  
Already he feels weak, but he stands upright before the Commandant.

Lucien had commanded the Commandant not to speak to the mage, but he'd loved the sound of his own voice ever since the Shard warped it into a weapon. He taunts the mage before beginning, speaking of a lush green world that Garth would never see again, reminding him of a dignity he was sure to lose and a self that would become useless as the Spire devoured him.

"Do what you will to me, man," Garth snaps after a time. "I am sure Lucien did not command you to talk me to death."  
The Commandant sneers, silenced, and the rods hum to life.

Electricity had always bent to Garth's will, but he had none now, and it sears him to the bone when it hits. His knees tremble but he refuses to buckle, teeth grinding so hard he can hear the enamel crack, Will lines shrieking and burning him as they overload.

The Commandant thrums with the power he's stolen.  
The guards have to drag the dry-heaving mage back to his cell.

The next time, it is fire. He is awakened by the torch held just above his flesh, and he knows nothing but that for hours, hours.  
Water is next, then ice. Then the keening noise tuned to just the right decibel, worming past his eardrums and into his brain, setting his frazzled nerves alight.

That time, he does cry out for mercy.

Every time, he is denied Lucien's face, until the last time.

"I hope we've come to an understanding." Lucien is grey-haired and haggard, his cheekbones a sharp jut under his sallow flesh, his smile a rictus grin. "You will not entertain the merest thought of leaving the Spire. You will not entertain the merest thought of overthrowing me--"

"I entertain thoughts of killing you," Garth gasps, his eyes still shut against the blinding agony that was his waking life, but behind his eyelids he can still see the madness in Lucien's eyes, burning clear as day.

"No one will kill me. Least of all _you._ "

"Surely you know this is not over, Lucien."  
But mad-eyed Lucien knows nothing but what the Spire tells him, and the Spire always lies.

It is years before Garth can breathe deeply without wincing; years before the energies that had fled from his tortured body begin to weave around him again; years before he can See again. In those years he learns the Spire's song, and the Spire -- always lying -- tells him to keep sleeping. In those years he keeps firm in his memory the sight of a wayward Hero's face, a wayward Hero that was here for him, a wayward Hero that he could not let the Spire claim.

"Took you long enough," Adam Byrne mutters, rubbing his neck where the collar had just been blasted off, and Garth is, briefly, so angry he cannot speak.


End file.
